


The second time around

by TheGirlWithFlower



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Prostitution, Bucky is a rent boy, Drug Use, M/M, and then Steve happens
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-31
Updated: 2014-10-10
Packaged: 2018-02-15 13:17:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2230461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGirlWithFlower/pseuds/TheGirlWithFlower
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky is a rent boy and Steve turns out to be more than just one of his clients.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd been [Charliefellasleep](http://archiveofourown.org/users/charliefellasleep/works/)

The bar is dark, and to Bucky's luck, crowded. He was anticipating that, given it's a Saturday night and July, time when the city is full of tourists that are hungry for an adventure, for some fun.

There's a mirror above the bar, and he quickly checks his appearance; dark hair tugged behind his ears, leather jacket and a loose white tee, black trousers and shoes. He smirks at his reflection, running one hand through his hair once again to make it look more messy, to fit the bad boy pose he's trying to strike, and shakes his head at the bartender when he asks what to get him. He's not here to drink, but to work. And if everything goes right, he won't have to buy himself any drinks tonight.

The music is loud, pounding in his ears. The dim purple lights shining just enough to make the bar and dance floor visible, yet they give all visitors a feeling of intimacy and anonymity. Bucky knows very well that this will help him to get some payment. His customers are often men with a block, unable to admit to themselves what they're doing, not even when Bucky's sucking them off. These surroundings combined with the right amount of alcohol make them relax, let down their guard, make them think they're invisible and no one will ever know about their actions. Bucky doesn't mind. He doesn't give a damn about being someone's dirty secret, as long as it means he gets his cash.

He leans his elbows against the bar, and stretches lazily, looking over the place with as lax and careless expression as he can manage. There are several opportunities, as it seems; a guy by the leather couches, obviously checking Bucky out. Another one’s by one of the pillars. He seems rich, Bucky can tell by now, but also is bald, and around fifty. And right now, Bucky’s not in the mood to play him a ‘good boy’, the high-school team leader he had always dreamed of bending over the bench. He’ll rather go for the other one. Dropping his gaze and licking his lips, he makes a move forward, but as he looks up again, his eyes fall on a blonde man sitting on a bar stool.

He's wearing dark blue suit jacket, white tee under it and a pair of jeans. The short fair hair is somehow matching his face, its straight, gentle lines even more visible in the dim light, and Bucky can’t ignore that he’s quite handsome. He decides to give it a shot and heads straight to him.

"Hey," He smirks at the blonde, and points to the free stool beside the man, raising his brows.

"Um, hi. Yes, of course."

Bucky sits down, resting one forearm on the bar so he can face the man. "I'm James." He introduces himself, waiting for the other to speak up. He hasn't sent Bucky off yet, and he definitely doesn't look the type of taciturn and withdrawn, so he isn't even surprised when he gets a smile and a name "Steve." in response.

"So, _Steve_ ," Bucky cocks his head to side. "how do you like it here?"

"It's nice," Steve answers immediately, glancing over his shoulder at the club in question. "I don't usually go here, but...see, my friend's a bartender here, I promised to visit him." He explains and shrugs.

Bucky doesn't elaborate it too much, knowing it might as well be one of the escape lies. Like when you go to a sex shop to buy something for 'a friend'. But Steve seems sincere, so Bucky asks.

"You're waiting for a drink, then?"

"I am." Steve confirms. "You?"

"No, but you can invite me."

Steve just smiles at that and looks down, but he doesn't protest and soon there are two whiskeys in front of them. They clink glasses, and while Steve is leaning his back down on the bar, Bucky moves closer, a bit more than he has to no matter the loud music, resting one hand on the edge of Steve's chair. "Quite crowded, huh? Can't even hear myself thinking."

"Busy night," Steve agrees and smiles again, and Bucky thinks he could melt icebergs with that face. "You're a regular?"

"I work here." Bucky says simply, and pulls back a bit, waiting for Steve to put it all together. He watches his expression change from confused to understanding, and practically breaths out the awkward "Oh." at the same time with him.

"Yeah. Anyway, thank you for the drink, Steve," he smiles, taking a sip again, eyes never leaving Steve's face. "Can you..think of an idea of how I could repay you?"

To Bucky's delight, Steve seems a bit absorbed by watching him lick his lips for the rest of the scotch, and it takes him a moment to answer. "Well, I-- I don't know I was just...I mean I would--"

Bucky leans closer again and that shuts him up. "C'mon," he says into his ear, this time moving his hand on Steve's knee. "You'll love it, I promise...I'll do _whatever_ you want me to do."

He feels Steve taking a deep breath, and Bucky finds himself really hoping he'll say yes. For once, just once after a long time he'd like to enjoy this, and not to have a creepy fat guy huff on the back of his neck.

Steve looks almost shy when he asks Bucky about his prices.

~~~

They're standing outside the club, waiting for a taxi, and neither of them talks. Steve's quiet, one moment he's staring at the tip of his shoes, the other he's watching the road, but does so without having to meet Bucky's eyes.

He doesn't mind. He's familiar with this. Steve looks like the type who needs to be led, pushed a bit to finally do something, and Bucky's okay with it. However, he also looks like someone who could have anyone he wanted, and that makes Bucky wonder why he'd chosen him, of all the guys who'd probably go with him just to have a good time for free. On the other hand, this was easier, Steve didn't have to put any effort into this.

The taxi is finally there and they get in, Steve saying a name of some hotel. Bucky feels like he probably has been in that one before, and if he remembers correctly, he's truly lucky. That place's not a cockroach den. Steve pulls out his phone, and starts typing something. Bucky puts hand on his thigh, just above his knee, just to see if Steve would be okay with it, and the blonde looks up, looking almost apologetically. "I just want to book a room," he explains, probably thinking Bucky doesn't like that he's not paying attention to him. "it's quicker then. With the reception desk and...all."

"Hm, you seem familiar with this." Bucky smiles, stroking Steve's thigh idly.

"It's not the first time I'm looking for a place to crash at the last moment."

Bucky just arches a brow.

~~~

As soon as they get into the room and Steve locks the door behind them, Bucky turns to him, shrugging off his jacket. He smirks, seeing Steve drop his eyes for a second.

"Would you like a glass of water?" He offers, which Bucky thinks is endearing. He shakes his head, and steps closer to him.

"How about you let me take it from here, hm?" He says quietly, bringing his hands up to undo the two buttons on Steve's suit jacket. "You just relax, and tell me what you like."

Steve breathes an "Okay," and Bucky leans in to kiss him. He's not sure Steve will like that, a lot of his clients aren't comfortable with such an intimate contact, but Bucky was _dying_ to taste those lips, and when Steve opens his mouth for him, gripping Bucky's hips, he allows himself a quiet moan, glad how this night turned out.

Bringing his hands up to Steve's shoulders, he gently pushes the jacket down his arms, running his fingers along the muscles there. Bucky breaks the kiss, moving his lips to Steve's jaw and neck, kissing him more quickly now, more urgently, to get things move faster. He smirks to himself when he feels Steve's hands on the small of his back and then under the hem of his t-shirt, touching his skin as high as he can reach. Bucky pulls away, locking eyes with Steve's for that time and pulls the shirt over his head. He's a bit surprised to then see that Steve did the same, but not unpleasantly. He lets his eyes wonder over his well defined chest and stomach, and Steve does the same. The next second, he's tugging at Steve's belt, guiding him to the bed. Steve's hand is on his hip, the other cupping his head and he's mouthing on the skin of Bucky's neck so deliciously, he needs to remind himself to keep in check and do his job.

His calves meet the edge of the bed and Bucky sits down on it, holding Steve's hips. He glances up briefly, smiling lightly, before turning his attention to the waistband of Steve's jeans, kissing just above the fabric. He hears Steve hiss when he moves one hand over his crotch, and does it again, palming at him shortly, his hands then move onto the belt, undoing it with a practiced ease, and opening the fly. Steve doesn't have to be told twice and he's tugging the jeans down himself. Bucky shimmies out of his pants as well, putting them away after fishing out the condom and a small packet of lube from his pocket. He puts it on the bed beside him, and looks up at Steve.

The blonde's watching him with bleary eyes and parted lips, his chest rising with every breath. Bucky would like to take his time to lick and kiss every inch of those muscles, but there's no place for that now. He looks away again, and begins to kiss Steve's abdomen and his hips, hooks his thumbs under the waistband of his boxer briefs, and tugs it down.

Steve is half hard and Bucky takes his time with him, kissing the head of his cock, running his tongue over the underside, pumping him with his hand before he takes him in the mouth. Steve's moaning and sighing above him and it's like a sweet music to Bucky's ears. No filthy groans, no hands in his hair pushing him to take in more and almost making him gag. He realizes Steve's been quiet the whole time, and he pulls back to smile up at him.

"I hope-- that this is okay?" He asks, and leans forward to kiss his groin again. "You're enjoying it?"

"Yes," Steve breathes, nodding. "Yes, I'm-- you're great."

Bucky just grins at that. "Well then. Let's see if I can be any better, huh?" He takes the condom and tears the foil open, handing it to Steve to roll it on, so Bucky has time to take his own underwear off. He's almost surprised when he realizes he's half hard himself. That doesn't usually happen. Then again, guys like Steve don't usually happen to him, either, and he can't deny that Steve really turns him on.

Bucky grabs the lube, opens it and pours it into his hand. It takes him no time to prepare himself, if only just briefly, and then he's standing up, kissing his way up Steve's neck. "Is it okay, like this?" He murmurs, turning around.

He hears Steve breathe out his approval, and then Bucky's on all four on the bed and turning his head to see Steve press against him, slowly, as if he were afraid he'd hurt him.

They both groan once Steve is fully inside, and Bucky drops his head, taking in long breaths to get used to the sudden stretch. It hurts, but only a bit, and Bucky knows it will disappear as soon as Steve starts moving.

With the first thrust, he grits his teeth, hands clenching the sheet, but as Steve speeds up, holding Bucky's hips and pounding into him in short moves, the pain is almost gone, replaced by the sweet, pressuring feeling. Bucky arches his back, mouth falling open, taking all Steve's giving him, thanking whomever that made this happen for Steve not being only handsome, but also good in bed.

He's hard, his erection throbbing between his legs, touching the skin of his belly. He wishes he could reach down and get himself some of the desired friction, but he can’t because of the balance. But a moment later Steve is leaning over him, chest to Bucky’s back, biting on the skin of his shoulder, and hand wrapping around Bucky’s length, making him gasp. Steve’s grip is warm and firm, and Bucky gives in completely, only moaning and gasping under him.

It doesn’t take long, not as long as it normally takes for Bucky, anyway, and he feels himself getting close to orgasm. He grips the sheet, knuckles turning white with the strength, and he closes his eyes, brows drawn up. After several more thrusts, and pumps of Steve’s hand, Bucky gives a shuddering moan as he comes, spilling over Steve’s hand. He hears him breathe a chuckle at Bucky’s ear, and he earns himself a nibble at his earlobe and a quick kiss on the shoulder before Steve is pulling back, hands moving to Bucky’s hips again, but Bucky reaches back and stops him with a hand on his wrist.

„N-no, wait. Let me. “He breaths and moves away, groaning as Steve slips out of him. He takes him by shoulder and flips Steve on his back, then straddles his hips carefully again. Gripping his thighs, Steve is all wide eyed under him, skin lightly flushed, and Bucky is relishing in that expression, moving up and starting a hard, ruthless rhythm, sinking down onto Steve. His hands running over his chest, pinching and scratching the skin, watching with delight and curiosity as his pale complexion turns pink.

„Oh—god..“ Steve groans, and Bucky grins at that, leaning down to kiss his lips, but Steve quickly wraps his arms around him, anchoring him down and jolts his hips upward, immediately breaking the kiss to moan. "Oh, fuck--" he does it again and again, thrusting into him, desperate for his own climax, and when it comes few seconds later, Steve is arching up, chest flush against Bucky’s, gripping him tight.

They lie in silence, panting hard, their mouths just an inch apart. Bucky opens his eyes after a moment, only to see Steve crane his neck to kiss him. Bucky complies, opening his mouth for him, hands stroking Steve’s sides, but then he pulls away.

Steve is looking at him with a light, drowsy smile, eyes roaming over Bucky’s face, and he has to push himself into saying what he has to say, because he never lingers afterwards, that’s the rule when the client doesn’t say any different.

„I’ll just take my money and go.“ Bucky smiles lazily at him, and pushes himself up and out of Steve’s warm embrace, gathering his clothes. Steve is silent on the bed behind him, and Bucky turns just when his jeans are back on, raising his brows pointedly.

„Oh. Right.“ Steve nods quickly and moves to reach for his boxers, which gives Bucky a great view on his body, all the well defined muscles. He then takes his trousers and fishes out the wallet, handing Bucky a stack of notes.

„Thanks.“ He breaths, quickly looking away. „I mean- but yeah, thanks.“

Bucky pockets it, slips into his shoes and puts on a shirt, throwing his leather jacket over one shoulder. „Okay, have a good night, Steve.“ He offers a small smile, and heads for the door before it could get too awkward. „Maybe I’ll see you around.“ Bucky adds, and then he’s out of the door, feeling good. He knows he has to return to the bar at least once more to get his regular cash for night, since he’d given Steve a special price, but at least he’ll have something, and someone, to think of.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This got longer to write that I thought, very sorry! Promise to add the next one sooner...  
> \-------  
> Beta'd by [Charliefellasleep](http://archiveofourown.org/users/charliefellasleep/works/)

Bucky wakes up around noon on Thursday, which is nothing unusual. He goes to bed in the morning, and has almost nothing to do till night again, so most of the time he just stays indoors, watches detective series on his crappy tv, or works out. Because his looks are what's getting him the payment, and he knows it. 

Except for getting an extra money for calling one of the men 'daddy' in bed - which he frankly had no desire in elaborating - his week has been pretty boring. Or, at least, repetitive, as any other. He went to shop for some groceries on Sunday, stopped by in the club on Monday to chat with some of the other guys he knows from the job. He even made himself go for a short jog, to make it right with his consciousness about living healthier. 

He gets up to take a shower and fetch some food, but doesn't get dressed till evening. It's still early to go to the club, but he has something else to do, first. 

~~~ 

Three short knocks on the door are the signal, and Bucky is let inside, getting rather unfriendly look from the muscular guy with tattoos by the entrance. 

It's not the nicest place, a dirty apartment in the ground floor, with dark walls and old furniture. There are two guys and three girls, all slumped on the one couch or beside it, looking drowsy, gazes unfocused. They probably don't even know he's there. 

Bucky walks around them, careful not to step on any of the feet, and heads to the other room. 

"Barnes." 

Tall, lean man in a tank top and jeans greets him coolly as soon as he enters, looking up at Bucky from where he's sitting in a leather armchair, and stands up. "I was doubting you'd come." 

Bucky frowns slightly in confusion, and looks around, glancing to the other man standing by a wall. He's watching Bucky intensely, and he quickly looks away. "Well, it's Thursday..." He says in explanation. 

"It is." He answers only. "But, y'see, the thing's you owe me for the last time, still. It's been a week, do you have the money?" 

Bucky bites his lip, eyes shifting to the guy by the wall again. "I'll bring it, Josh. I swear, but I only have enough to pay for one now, I--" 

The bodyguard makes a swift move and that shuts Bucky up, making him cringe. Josh just holds up his hand to stop him. "You fucking bet you'll bring it." He growls. "If you don't wanna end up really bad." 

He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a small bag of white powder. If he weren't so stressed, Bucky would've made a joke about how Josh still has something prepared for him, even though he wasn't expecting him to come. 

But now, he just sniffs and reaches out to take it from him. He can almost feel his nose tingle awith the perspective of the sensation it would bring. However, Josh pulls his hand back. 

"You will give me my money," he says to remind Bucky, though his tone is nothing but uncompromising. 

"Yes." He nods. "Yes, of course." 

"One more warning and you're done, Barnes. Don't forget I know where to find you." He warns and presses the small bag into Bucky's palm. "Now get out." 

He mutters a 'thanks' and is out of the door. 

~~~ 

He doesn't take any that evening, but instead heads to the club earlier than normally. It's Thursday, after all, so he doesn't suppose he'd get a lot of clients. But he needs the money, now more than ever. He knows what Josh and his men are capable of when things don't go their way, and Bucky certainly doesn't want to test them. 

There's not lot of people there yet, so he sits down at the bar again, facing the club, and just watches the men there for a while. Most of them are in pairs, some are in a group, probably friends on a night out, talking and laughing quietly in a closed circle. Not the best opportunities. So he turns around, mildly annoyed that it's not going as ideal as he hoped it would, and orders a drink. 

He's half way through it when a guy in his late forties approaches him, the so-well-known daring smirk on his face, and asks if Bucky's waiting here for someone, and what's a guy like him doing in such place. Bucky knows all of those cheesy lines by heart, having heard them million times, but he’s wearing a pretty expensive suit, so Bucky plays along. They fall in a quiet conversation and subtle touches, and half an hour later, they're standing up, ready to leave. 

The guy- Mike, Mark, or something- excuses himself to the bathroom, asking Bucky to wait for him, hand on his hip as he leans closer to say that into his ear. 

Bucky nods, and when he's gone, quickly downs the rest of both their drinks. 

Outside of the club, they're waiting for the taxi, yet again, and Bucky wishes the guy wouldn't be the touchy type as he feels his hand slide down over the small of his back. He turns to look at him and smiles, just gently, to see for his reaction, and it takes him a lot of willpower not to cringe under the hungry, predatory look he gets in return, a hand moving up his back, the man leaning in to whisper all the filthy things he wants to do to Bucky as soon as they get to the hotel. He’s just half listening to it, petting the words just swim arend his ears and away. Bucky drops his eyes, smirks, and looks up at the man, biting his lower lip, when— 

„What the hell?“ Bucky pushes back, staring at Steve. He’s just standing there, two feet away, hands in the pockets of his jeans, startled expression on his face. 

"I, uh—hey, I just—"

"You know each other?“ Mark —Mike, whatever, asks, frowning, and Bucky panics. He can’t afford to loose this job, 

"Not really.“ He says quickly, shaking his head, staring at Steve. "He’s—from the club.“ 

"Aha,“ the man says, looking Steve over, and tightens his grip on Bucky’s waist possesively, making Bucky want to crawl out of his skin. 

Steve doesn't seem to notice that though - or he does, but doesn't let it show on his expression, still watching Bucky with that stupid, puppy-like face. What does he want? Bucky excuses himself for a second, though his client's not very glad about it, not even when Bucky assures him he'll be right back to him, letting his hand slide down over his chest. 

"What is it?" He practically hisses at Steve, glancing over his shoulder for a moment. 

"Well, I-- I'm sorry. I didn't want to interrupt you or anything," he blurts out and Bucky raises his brows. 

"I was just going to the club, kind of... hoping to see a familiar face--" 

"Your friend works there." 

"Not what I meant but, yeah...you remember?" 

Bucky growls. "Look, I don't have time for this now, I gotta--" 

"Yeah, you need to..." Steve stops himself, eyes shifting to the guy behind Bucky, unsure what to say and his lack of words to describe the situation as it is just makes Bucky angry. 

" _Work_ ." He snaps, finishing for him. "I need to work. So bye." 

He's about to turn and walk away, when Steve grabs his elbow. Weirdly for him, Bucky doesn't push him away, only turns to look at him. 

"I didn't want to offend you, I didn't." Steve apologizes, sounding sincere, which surprises Bucky a bit. He hasn't heard this tone in quite a while; kind and low... 

"I just wanted to...talk to you for a second." 

Bucky looks at him, just poorly hiding his disbelief. Is this guy even real? What is he thinking, that drink and chat will pay the bills, that Bucky's interested in talking with old clients, when it's not about agreeing on another encounter? "Well, I can't." He says, as firmly as he can. "Have better plans for tonight." 

"You coming back here?" Steve tries again, hopeful to the point of absurdity when he stops Bucky again, his other hand on Bucky's hip. 

It takes him a moment longer to realize what's happening, though he's very aware of it. Steve's touch is a burning presence on his side, even over the jacket, and not an unpleasant one. There's a brief thought of wanting to surrender into it, to _please_ , let's go get the stupid drink, much rather than having to go with that sleazy guy… but then Bucky snaps back to present. "No," he croaks out, and pulls away. This time, Steve lets him. "I'm not. So don't wait up or...whatever." 

When he's being ushered into the taxi, he steals one more quick glance over his shoulder, to where Steve is watching him from the pavement before turning to walk down the street, shoulders hunched, hands in pockets. 

"Now, where were we?" The guy mutters into his ear and Bucky tries his best not to lean away when he slides his hand over his inner thigh. 

~~~ 

One of the things he hates about his job is not being able to take a shower right after sex. He rarely has more time than to pick up his shoes and put on his clothes and he's already being ushered to leave the room, money in hand, hair ruffled and sometimes the disgusting feeling all over him. This guy was of course one of those types. He pays Bucky his cash, and tells him to leave, while he's still sprawled on the bed where he'd fallen after huffing for half an hour into Bucky's face.

Now, he wasn't expecting this to be extremely good. Hell, he knew this was going to be bad almost right from the start, but having unattractive, sleazy, selfish guy who wasn't even able to bring Bucky to orgasm, fuck you for simply _too_ long, that's just too much.

He didn't feel like going back to the club. He was in no mood for another round of this, knowing with his luck it'd be probably the same. Also, though that wasn't the main reason, Bucky reminded himself, Steve might be there, though he had seen him leave. But the chance was there, and Bucky didn't want to risk it. He was tired, worn out, and in need of shower to get the sweat and feeling of the guy's hand on him off.

He tries to think of something else as he stands under the hot stream of water, letting it warm up the skin in his nape and back until he feels it sting from the temperature being too high, and turns around. Nevertheless, his mind keeps drifting to when he had met Steve tonight.

Bucky still can't understand what he was doing there, what he wanted from him. It wasn't common for his clients to come back, though mostly it was because they were foreigners or didn't want to get involved with one guy more times. Bucky was fine with that; no feelings, that was the basic rule.

He wonders what would've happened if he told the guy to fuck off and went with Steve. If they'd just talk, or if Bucky would be able to persuade him for another _good and unselfish_ sex. How he would've liked that, even though he wouldn't have gotten as much money as he got now, but which still wasn't enough to pay his debt.

As he falls down into his bed, pyjama pants and an old t-shirt on, Bucky decides that everything sucks and he needs a boost. His body hurts, he's quite broke, he just experienced possibly the worst night of his life, and turned down a hot guy.

He rolls over onto his stomach and reaches for his jacket that he strategically threw on the ground when he got home, and fishes out the pack of powder. A crumpled piece of paper was in the pocket, too, so he puts it on the bed, not minding it.

He has a credit card in the drawer of his nightstand, so he takes it out, opening the package, and gets one thin line of the powder ready, then grabs the paper from his pocket to roll it into a straw. But as he looks down on it, holding the paper gently in his fingers, he stops.

There is a phone number written on it. And the name _Steve._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!  
> My darling [Charliefellasleep](http://charliefellasleep.tumblr.com) made this beautiful edit for my fic, thank you so much! 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is not beta'd because I just really wanted it posted already...sorry for the delay again, I'm so ashamed of myself!   
> If you guys are still reading this, I just wanted to say how grateful I am for the comments and kudos, it's a great encouragement and I'm so very grateful! <3

It's been two days since Bucky last saw Steve, and he still hasn't called him. Somehow, he just couldn't bring himself to pick up the phone and dial the numbers, though he was thinking about it often; the piece of paper was still lying about on his nightstand, crumpling more and more each time Bucky picked it up to look at, or to take it with him when he went out, just in case he would decide to call.

It was insane, in a way, and Bucky has found himself several times irrationally wishing Steve would be the first one to call, even though he didn't have Bucky's number, or to approach him again so Bucky could react a bit better than the last time.

None of that happened, though, and it seemed that Steve was giving Bucky time, or he gave up on anything that he was trying to achieve there, whatever it was.

"You still have that?" The voice of his friend- or co-worker who sometimes hangs around, more likely- brings Bucky back from his thoughts.

"You keep staring at that paper, it's weird."

He quickly puts it away and turns his head to see Spencer sprawled on his couch. "Yeah? What would you say I should do?"

"I dunno," he mumbles, eyes never leaving the display of his phone. "Throw it out. Or call him, whatever."

"I thought you didn't fancy that possibility?" Bucky arches a brow at him.

"That's not what I said." Spencer disagrees, and when Bucky doesn't answer, waiting for him to continue, he sighs and put the phone down. "Look, all I'm saying is that it's pretty weird. Like...this never happens. He ain't Richard Gere and you don't have Roberts' tits."

Bucky grins.

"For what you know, he could be an undercover cop."

"I think he would've already arrested me if he were." Bucky points out flatly.

"Maybe he just wanted to get his dick sucked?" Spencer shrugs, earning himself a cold glance.

"Fine, maybe he ain't a cop, but you have to admit it's suspicious." He waits for Bucky to disagree, but the other is silent. "I think he could mean troubles."

"I'm the troublesome one here." Bucky says and Spencer goes back to his game.

"Fine, you jackass. When it's so simple, then call him."

Bucky doesn't answer then, just flexes his jaw as he thinks, watching the paper in his hand, staring at it as if it could solve his problem itself.

~~~

Spencer doesn't leave till afternoon, and Bucky doesn't really mind. He's glad for the company, from time to time, he doesn't get to talk to people that often. They talk about job and the new movies, eat some take away, [take a dose]. When Bucky later closes the door behind him, still chuckling over something Spencer had said, he's in a good mood. Padding back to the living room, the mess be damned, he grabs his phone and types in the number he has remembered from heart.  
 __

_'So, a phone number in a pocket's pretty corny'_

_He doesn't have to wait long for the answer._

_'But it worked'_

_'Don't flatter yourself. Maybe I just wanted to tell you this.'_

_'Maybe you'd want to say that to me face to face?'_

Cheeky bastard. Bucky thinks, grinning at the text, but replies an 'Fine, whatever' anyway.

Steve suggests to grab a coffee sometime around noon the next day and Bucky agrees, choosing the café in the center, by the museum. They agree on meeting and with that settled Bucky puts the phone down, grabbing his jacket so he can go for a walk, or maybe a run, outside before it gets dark. He feels twitchy and lively and can't help but whistle as he's half dancing down the staircase. He's got the feeling that not even a really bad client would bother him that much tonight.

~~~

The next day, however, the insecurity is back, finding Bucky standing half naked in front of the mirror in his bathroom, staring at his own reflection. It's twenty minutes past noon. He'd woken up three hours ago, but couldn't bring himself to do anything until now.

When he awoke, Bucky felt dizzy and sore, both from the drugs and work that wasn't exactly easy last night. He got paid well, but for the price of rather athletic performance, and his arms and legs felt like they were on fire. He took an aspirin, then checked his phone, and realized what he had planned for today.

Now, he is supposed to be meeting Steve in forty minutes, and he looks like trash; messy hair, red eyes, bag under them. He's always been satisfied with the way he looked, and even though he wasn't like from a magazine because of one reason or another, then fuck it. He didn't care. But now...For the fifth time his eyes glance to the phone on the edge of the sink.

He could text Steve and cancel it, say he's ill, or not feeling like meeting him, or not today, that is. He curses when he realizes his heart is racing and quickly grabs the phone, only realizing what he's doing when someone picks up after just second beep.

"Yes? Hi." Steve's voice sounds smiley, and Bucky knows to call was a mistake.

"H-- hey...it's me." He croaks, feeling like an idiot. "Look, I-- I'm sorry, but I can't--" he looks up to his reflection, watching himself. Pathetic indeed.

Steve is silent on the other end for couple of seconds. "James? Is everything alri--"

"I'm gonna be late." Bucky stammers quickly. "Sorry. I overslept. But I'm on my way, okay, stay there." He's already hanging up when he hears Steve chuckle quietly.

Bucky runs out of the bathroom, yanking the door of his wardrobe open, scanning through his clothes. There are old torn jeans, leather pants, some grey ones with torn knees...he settles with the jeans, grabbing a grey tee that doesn't smell bad, and returns to the bathroom to brush his teeth, comb his hair back with his fingers (as if it helped anyhow), and sprays a bit of cologne on his neck.

Terrific fifteen minutes late he's getting off the bus in front of the museum and hurrying to the café. He finds Steve sitting on one of the wicker chairs with matching table outside and slowly approaches him, mumbling a 'Hi.' Steve is on his feet the next second, smiling wide and gesturing for Bucky to sit down opposite him.

"I was waiting for you with the order, what will you have?" He asks, looking at Bucky as if the answer was so very important for him to hear.

"Black, strong. Sugar." Bucky says and Steve smirks.

"Rough morning?"

"Something like that." His hand goes immediately into his hair, trying to smooth it down.

Steve just nods, and they order their drinks when the waiter comes. Bucky looks up, meeting Steve's eyes, unsure of what to say, so he bait arches a brow, challenging him to say something.

The blonde gets the hint and leans on his elbows on the table, presenting so unwittingly his rolled up sleeves and forearms to Bucky.

"Thanks for coming today. I, er, wasn't really counting on that."

"Why not?" Bucky shrugs nonchalantly. Steve doesn't have to know about his little panic attack from today. "I haven't been out for a coffee in a long time...But we're not here just for that, are we?"

"No," Steve chuckles and looks away for a moment. "I actually wanted to talk."

"I figured." Bucky nods. "But _why_ ?"

Steve blinks at him and his cheeks turn light shade of pink. "Alright, um, where to start...See, I don't normally do one night stands or--"

"Look." Bucky frowns. "Save your breath. I do this every day, you were nothing special, it was a job. So if you wanted to justify your actions here, I can just go."

He moves to stand up, but Steve is quick to reach out over the table. "No, wait." His hand stops short and he withdraws it again. "Don't, that's not what I wanted to say."

"Fine then, what was it?" Bucky arches a brow, crossing arms on his chest. He doesn't like how evasive and nervous Steve seems to be.

"It's a bit complex." Steve admits, shrugging. "You look like a very interesting person, and from the time spent together, I can tell that you are."

Bucky manages just a surprised, "What the hell?" feeling his brows almost touching the line of his hair.

"Yes, I know I--"

"You know nothing about me."

"But I want to." Steve says, and Bucky can't find any other words. "That's why I asked you out, I just thought that maybe- and if you wanted, of course- we could get to know each other?"

Bucky stares at him for good thirty seconds, silent and when he finally speaks up, his voice sounds to be on the edge. "So what you're saying is that you _asked me out_ because you realized I was a great person when we were fucking?"

Steve almost winces at the words and quickly rubs his nape. "Not exactly, I meant-- " he sighs and Bucky has to suppress a grin. He's genuinely enjoying torturing Steve like this, rather than nodding eagerly and asking him to go for an ice cream, then to rollerblade in the park and do all the stupid things couples do because it's been _too long_ since he's had anything like this.

The waiter brings their beverages and Steve gives him a grateful smile, glad for the intrusion. When the man leaves, he looks down on his cup for a moment before meeting Bucky's eyed again. "I just wanted to talk. Give it a shot, I know it's crazy, probably. Sor--" he stops himself and looks away.

Bucky is quiet again, leaning back in the chair, his coffee untouched, just realizing that this is Steve giving up. It must've taken him some courage to ask Bucky out, to find him again and give him the number and not give up after he told him to get lost. In a way, Bucky admired that stubbornness. It was...nice.

He clears his throat and moves so he can open the pack of sugar and pour it into his coffee. "So...what did you want to talk about?"

Steve's head shots up and he looks at Bucky with wide eyes. When he smiles, Bucky does the same.

~~~

They spend about three hours at the café, talking. It doesn't go without trouble at first, there are silent pauses and awkward glances before they find a topic to talk about again, but they both try and soon they slip in a chain of random topics. Steve doesn't mind to open himself to Bucky, telling him stories from his childhood when it comes to it one way or another, and they both laugh at his stories of his kid gang from Brooklyn.

"It was insane." He laughs, Bucky opposite him grinning like a fool. "We were in fights all the time, I spent my childhood running through the streets. Hiding, most of the time."

"I'd like to see you back then." Bucky chuckles.

When the waiter comes for the third time, asking again if they wanted something, Steve politely declines and asks for the bill. He pays for both of them and smiles at Bucky.

He smiles back, though afraid a little that the date is over, but as if reading his mind, Steve stands up. "Would you mind if we walked around a bit? If you have time, of course."

"Not at all." Bucky assures him. "I should head home soon, though, I gotta-- get ready and eat something." He says a bit evasively. The last thing he'd want is to bring up his work right now and ruin this with something like real life. He was enjoying this; having Steve's attention, the expression on his face when he was listening to what Bucky was telling, though it wasn't much, the way he was speaking, his casual smiles and kind eyes with those crazy long lashes.

"Well, then I could walk you home?" Steve offers and Bucky just shrugs.

They talk still, walking side by side, keeping their hands to themselves, except accidental touches, bumping their shoulders together jokingly or finding the opportunity to touch the other, like when Steve stopped Bucky on the sidewalk by hand on his elbow and then urging him to cross the street by touching his lower back. Bucky would've been quite satisfied with keep that going, but as they were getting closer to his apartment, he grew quiet. Steve seemed to get what was happening and so the last feet they were walking in silence.

"Well, this is me." Bucky stops at one point, nodding his head to the entrance of the house.

Steve glances that way, then back at Bucky. "I'm really glad you went with me today," he says. "I had a great time, thank you."

"Yeah, it was nice." Bucky agrees. He's nervous suddenly, wanting to flee inside and slam the door behind him. Or pull Steve inside with him, he's not really sure which of the scenarios he likes better now. Any of that rather than standing here saying awkward goodbye and maybe never seeing Steve again, now when he actually started to think--

"We could meet again?" Steve interrupts his thoughts and before Bucky realizes it, he's smiling wide.

"Yes. Yeah, I'd like that."

"Good. Me too." Steve smiles. He hesitates a second, then takes step closer, and Bucky's hands go instinctively up to his arms when he feels Steve's hands on his waist.

And then Steve is leaning closer, his head tilting to the side lightly, eyes closed. Bucky's heart skips a beat and he takes a step back. "Look, I--" Steve looks at him, frowning slightly, confused. "I don't do this." Bucky shakes his head, and hates that he is unable to look Steve straight in the eye without feeling weak in the knees. "I don't date. I suck at it, seriously. I'm probably the last person who--" He cuts himself short when he realizes Steve's been looking at him with knowing smirk, eyes fond the same as always.

"Thanks for the warning, James." He says, and Bucky is sure it was enough to make Steve leave. However, instead of feeling Steve's hands slip off his waist, he feels himself being pulled closer. "But I'd rather decide that myself, if you don't mind." 

"Bucky." He blurts out, making Steve pull away once more.

"I'm sorry?"

Bucky looks away and sighs. "Don't call me James," he murmurs with a shrug, his thumbs rubbing self-consciously over the fabric of Steve's shirt on his biceps. "It's Bucky...James's just for-- the work." And he looks up to meet Steve's gaze hesitantly, eyes maybe a little too wide. Suddenly he feels exposed, vulnerable. He's never said his real name to anyone, being known by James, or just Barnes for years. There's simply never been anyone who Bucky would feel close enough to allow them to know something so personal. Bucky feels an irrational spike of fear within him, that Steve would hurt him now when he had let him come this close. 

He glances up at him, and is surprised to see Steve looking back at him with what could be described only as understanding and affection. He tilts his head again, gripping Bucky's hips a bit firmer in case he would move away again, and lightly kisses his cheek. "Good night, Bucky." he says quietly before letting go, and Bucky can already tell he loves the way Steve says his name. "I'll see you around. I'll make sure of it." he gives Bucky one more smile, putting hands in his pockets, and then he's turning on his heel and walking away, leaving Bucky standing on the sidewalk.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!  
> Feedback is much appreciated <3


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